


an exceptional young witch

by beware_of_you



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: but actually not really, cordelia's a great mom, i love writing for mallory tbh, its now a full length story oops, not too much tho, there's nods to foxxay and madisonxzoe, theres not a chance of michaelxmallory sorry stannies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19016011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beware_of_you/pseuds/beware_of_you
Summary: For a protagonist with an important role like killing the fucking antichrist and saving humanity, Mallory really wasn't really explored on in the show much further than "she's a witch with a unique ability and her grandma said the bloodline dated back to Salem. This is her backstory and goes deeper into her character (how she discovered her powers, how she expanded on them, what role her grandma played in her life and how she got to Robichaux's). Not a Millory story, bc that ship doesn't deserve rights.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time she uses magic, it's done unintentionally at five years old.

She's in her favorite yellow sundress with her head done up in twin pigtails, a crown of fake wildflowers her grandmother had bought for her placed upon her head like a colorful halo. Her mother and her grandmother are talking in the kitchen in harsh, hushed whispers while she plays outside in the garden, excitedly running around and looking at every bloomed flower, every ripened vegetables and herbs that were in their prime. There was always just something about nature, about the plants in full bloom like this that made her feel so elated, so happy, she couldn't help but laugh happily at what the thriving nature makes her feel.

Her squeals and shrill giggles are cut off suddenly by a sharp sting she feels. She stops running abruptly and frowns at the feeling, holding her side with a tiny hand. She lifts up a corner of her dress to inspect her side when her mother sharply calls out her name.

Jumping slightly, the young girl drops her hand back to her side and looks up with innocent eyes as her mother comes out of the door.

"Mallory, what on earth are you doing?"

Even that young, Mallory could tell that something was bothering her mother, something was making her mad (though, she didn't know what). She folds her hands behind her back and rocks back on her heels. "I think I got stung by a bee," she finally admits, unable to look up at the woman.

Her mother crouched down and lifted up her daughter's dressed quickly, sighing heavily when she saw nothing there. "Mallory, Gran and I are having a  _really_  important talk. Can you please go deeper in the garden and play a little quieter?"

Mallory, still without making eye contact with her mother, nodded and scampered off further away from the house. She sat down in the middle of a row of tall sunflowers, picking up tiny pebbles between her fingers and rolling them around with a small pout. As she's making a small path of pebbles in the dirt, she feels that same sharp pain in her side, more intense this time. She softly calls out an, "Ouch!", and rubs her side stubbornly, looking again only to find no bump, no red area on her skin. She stands up and begins to walk back to the house, feeling a little scared at this point, when she sees it.

It's a small, fuzzy bumblebee curled up beneath a tall sunflower stalk. It's body is limp, antenna lazily moving around. As Mallory looks closer, she can see that the insect's wings are torn and broken, making the poor creature unable to lift itself from the ground. And though the pain in her side gets worse as she nears the bug, as her parents previous warnings about bees stinging echoes in the back of her mind, Mallory gently scoops up the bug in her palms and rushes back towards the house.

She has tears streaming down her face as she looks down at the bee, almost like she can  _feel_  its pain as her own and comes rushing in the kitchen a blubbering mess. "Mommy, Gran-Gran!"

Immediately, the two adults crouch near her, both worriedly looking over her. "Mallory, what's wrong swee-" her grandma starts in her naturally soft, caring tone, reaching for her granddaughter to check her over when Mallory's mother cuts in front of her and shoots the woman a dangerous glare.

Mallory's mother isn't as gentle as her grandmother would be when she checks the small girl over, twisting her around and roughly grabbing her face to check for any cuts or bruises. Annoyance paints her features when she doesn't find anything and she glowers at her daughter. "What is it, Mallory?"

The small girl looks over at her grandma for help, lower lip trembling as she holds up the bee with broken wings up for the eldest woman to inspect it.

"Mallory, put that thing down!" her mother cries out in fear and disgust, swatting her hands and causing the bee to go flying onto the floor with a tiny thud.

"No!" Mallory yells out, dropping to her knees and carefully picking up the bee again.

"Now, why on earth would you do that!?" her grandmother uncharacteristically snapped at her mother.

"I don't need my daughter to end up like you, mother!" Mallory's mother seethed back.

As the two argued, Mallory caressed the bee in her palm. She shakily pet its fur with her pointer finger, watching it closely as the bee climbed up onto it, antenna twitching more actively. She suddenly feels really warm looking at this bee, all happy and fuzzy inside despite what had just happened to it.

The bee seems to freeze before fluttering its new, unharmed wings before it takes off out towards the garden.

Mallory watches the bee with wonder and amazement, staring out after it until it disappears into the lilac bush.

Her mother grabs her wrist and hastily walks her towards the front door. "Come on, Mallory. We're  _leaving_ ," she says so angrily, the small child can't do much of anything but let her mother drag her out the door.

She turns her head to look back at her grandma, but the older woman is staring out in the garden at the direction the bee had just flown. Mallory swore the woman wore a small, proud smile on her face.

As her mother frantically buckles her in the car, she no longer felt that sharp pain in her side.

She doesn't see her grandmother for years after that.

She's harshly reprimanded as soon as she gets home, both her parents screaming at the top of their lungs at her for being disobedient, for not listening to their rules. She doesn't even understand what she did as she tearfully looks back and forth between her mother and father.

She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? The bee didn't hurt her—if anything, her mother had been the one to hurt the insect when she slapped it from Mallory's hands. But then when she scooped up the bee, it appeared almost good as new, and even flew of into her grandma's garden.

She didn't do that, did she? She couldn't have possibly helped a sick, dying bee and made it better just by holding it, could she?

Isn't that what she just did?

Before she could have thought on it any longer, her parents had sent her to her room and didn't allow her to watch her favorite cartoons for two weeks. And, any time after that, if she picked up  _anything_  (especially a hurt insect or a drooping, dying flower), she was heavily punished.

There was even a time, when she felt that same sharp, stinging pain at her side around a butterfly with ripped wings. Before she could even reach for the insect, her mother had struck her across the face with an open palm and yanked her away.

She always flinched away from her mother after that. And no matter how much her side hurt looking at injured insects and wilted flowers, she would look on for a while before walking away, always feeling sick to her stomach for doing so.

When she is finally allowed to see her grandma again, she's ten years old. She spends the first couple of visits indoors, sulking out the window and watching the nature outside flourish. The singing birds, the fluttering butterflies, the cool, calm breeze all call to her in a way, pull at her and beckon her to be closer to them. But she ignores the feeling in fear that she'll help something again, like she did that bee, and her mother will find out and hit her again.

Her grandma does try the first few times to persuade her outside and into the heart of nature, but all Mallory can do is shrug her shoulders sadly and say,  "No, thank you," all while staring longingly out the window.

It breaks her grandma's heart to see her grandchild like this, all sad and scared of something she once loved so much before.

Later on in the day, she brings Mallory a glass of cooled, herbal tea and sits down right across from her. They're quiet for a moment, the older woman stirring around the ice in her glass slowly before speaking softly, "Do you want to go out to the garden?"

Mallory sips at her tea and shrugs her shoulders, frowning down at her own glass.

"You used to love going outside," her grandma points out gently, smiling to herself. "It was your favorite place to be."

Again, Mallory shrugs, setting down her glass.

"Do you want to go outside?"

"Mama doesn't like when I go outside. I get in trouble."

Her grandma frowns at this; even if she had a feeling her daughter had something to do with Mallory's behavior, the oral confirmation deeply upset her. How her daughter had made Mallory afraid to even go out into nature again infuriated her; how could she break the girl's spirit like that?

The older woman sits up straight, humming to herself. "Well, she's not here now, right?"

Mallory frowns in confusion, but after a moment, she slowly nods.

"Then she won't know that you were outside."

It takes Mallory a moment to figure it out, and even then, her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Are you gonna tell?"

The older woman smiles gently, shaking her head. "Of course not."

Mallory pauses, glancing out the window then back at her grandma. In a small voice, she asks hopefully, "You mean it? I can go outside?"

With an equally small nod and an encouraging smile, her grandma nods towards the back door. "Go on. I'll call you back before your mother comes to pick you up."

Mallory practically throws herself off the chair, rushing over and hugging her grandma tightly before heading outside as the older woman watches on with a content smile.

As soon as Mallory's bare feet hit the damp soil right outside the door, she feels lighter, happier. The feeling of nature, the birds singing their songs, the smell of damp earth seep down deep into her bones as if she and nature are one being. It had been  _years_  since she last felt like this and she doesn't want it to end.

As she strides up rows of sunflowers, she doesn't worry about her mother finding out she was outside, pushes those thoughts to the very deep recesses of her brain and focuses on the warmth she feels looking at the towering, bloomed flowers. She's careful to tiptoe around the dry, dead petals that have fallen off as she stares up at the giants, utterly entranced at both the look of the plant and the warm, bubbly feeling she gets as she looks on.

She feels the pain in her side so suddenly, she nearly yelps out in surprise. Her head whips around the garden, looking for the source of her pain, completely ignoring her mother's warnings that have been grilled into her for years.

She stumbles around until she comes across the source of the pain— a small dead butterfly laying just below a vine full of bright, red tomatoes. She stares longingly at the insect for a long time, feeling distraught. It was the sight of the dead creature that snaps her back to her senses, that reminds her of her mother's words, and what stops her from immediately going to the insect.

"Can you help it?"

The sound of her grandma's voice doesn't even startle Mallory that much. She feels too sick, too conflicted to feel spooked. "It's dead," she tells her grandma in a sad, broken whisper.

"Can you help it?" her grandma repeats, kneeling down next to her granddaughter with her eyes glued to the butterfly.

"I-" Mallory stops, thinking long and hard as she swallows hard, unable to tear her eyes away. Her shoulders slump, and she shrugs as she hugs her arms around herself. "I don't know."

Another pause.

"But... I want to."

Her grandma looks over at her confession, motioning Mallory to the insect with her eyes.

The young girl frowns nervously, shifting on the balls of her feet. Would her grandma tell her mother about this?

"Go on," her grandma persuades her softly. "Try it."

Mallory looks over at the older woman briefly before her gaze once more falls on the butterfly. She shifts more in the dirt, her arms tightening around her stomach as she thinks of what she should do.

She whines at the pain she feels and finally strides over to the butterfly, carefully picking it up in her palm. It's almost like a natural instinct when she brings her other hand to cup over the insect, like she had done this a million times before. She closes her eyes and concentrates, feels a slight pulsing sensation coming from within her palms, and then hears the telltale sound of a butterfly's wings flapping.

She's so surprised that she opens her hands and eyes with a gasp, watching the butterfly soar over to the tulips with an astonished gaze.

"I won't tell your mother about that either," her grandma assures Mallory with a proud smile and a wink.

"How did I  _do_  that!?" the young girl asks in amazement.

"Because, Mallory, you're special. You come from a long line of women with the same talents you have."

"It's like... magic," the young girl murmurs, not showing any signs of hearing the older woman.

Her grandma laughs softly at this, adjusting Mallory's flower crown with that same proud smile that only grows when the young girl looks up to her with a smile of her own. "It sure is."  
———  
"I'm a witch?"

"And here I thought all those years ago, you weren't paying attention," Mallory's grandma turns from the tea kettle to shoot her granddaughter a teasing smile.

Mallory, now fifteen years old, smiles sheepishly. "Well, at first I didn't." At the mock disapproving look her grandma gives her, she backpedals. "I was excited. I mean, none of the other kids could bring bugs back from the dead, so it was super cool to know I was the only one who could do it."

"I had to remind you so many times to not tell anyone," her grandma chuckles as she grabs two mugs down from the cabinet and sets them on the counter.

"I never realized how dangerous it was out there for us," Mallory murmurs, standing up to help the older woman. "That girl from Lafayette that got burned, Misty Day, she was one of us, wasn't she? Is that why mom is so hard on me?"

"Your mother doesn't understand your potential," her grandma sighed softly. "We always fought about your gifts, even before you were born. They always skip a generation, and she knew you would potentially be next in line... Can you give me the chamomile tea, dear?"

As Mallory reaches for the bags, her grandma continues. "She never understood our family's rich history with magic; it scared her. And it's fear, other's ignorance, that killed that poor Cajun girl."

The older woman pours in the hot water as Mallory settles the bags in to steep.

"But, no matter what your mother did to suppress your powers, they would only continue to bloom. That's why I worked with you when you started coming back over. The power of resurgence is a rare one that hardly shows up in our kind, and a gift that should not be wasted and left without guidance."

Mallory picks up the mugs and allows her grandma to grab a hold of her elbow for support as they make their way out to the garden.

"What are your powers, grandma?"

The older woman cracks a small smile, shakily lowering herself into a soft cushioned chair with Mallory's help. "Ah, telekinesis, if you can believe it. But I excelled with my plants, so I stuck with those for the majority of my life. Nothing Supreme-worthy."

Mallory perks up at that word, sitting across from her grandma with a curious look. "What's a Supreme? You mentioned that word a few times when I was growing up, but I don't think you ever told me what it was."

Her grandma hums, carefully grabbing her mug of tea. "I suppose I haven't." She audibly sips at her tea, sitting back in her chair with a content sigh. "Well, a witch will commonly posses and show one or two powers, sometimes even three. But the Supreme is a witch who possesses all common abilities, and almost all powers of our kind. She is also the leader of our coven."

"There's more of us out there?" Mallory asks in astonishment. "I mean, Misty Day, but... there's enough of us to be considered a coven?"

Her grandma grimaces slightly at this. "Well, I'm not sure about anymore. I don't know how many others are out there. Many of my sister witches have long since passed on, or disappeared years ago. I don't even think I know who the current Supreme is—if we even have one."

"Could you be the Supreme?" Mallory innocently questions as she plays back everything she's just been told in her head.

At this, her grandma laughs gently, shaking her head. "Oh, heavens no. Do you remember what I told you the first day you came back to my house?"

At the sudden change of topics, Mallory nods slowly with a confused look on her face. "You—you said I came from a long line of women sho shared my gifts," she tells the older woman after a minute of silence.

"Our family's bloodline goes all the way back to Salem, to the reigning Supreme at the time, Prudence Mather."

Her grandma takes another sip of her tea. "You have royal blood in your veins, Mallory, and that I might not have ever been nor will be Supreme, but it's not too crazy to assume that it could be you one day."

"I couldn't be in charge of anyone, let alone a whole coven of witches," Mallory murmurs doubtfully.

"Don't sell yourself short, dear," her grandma gently chides. "You have the makings of a fantastic leader; you have a kind, loyal spirit. And, at your age, you're already an exceptional witch with remarkable abilities." Leaning back in her chair, the older woman continues softly. "In your prime, witches won't have to be afraid, won't have to hide anymore, and will be safe to coexist with normal people. You'll help so many, and will make a great Supreme one day, Mallory, I know it."

The younger witch looks over at her grandma silently, studying her content expression to look for any signs of the older woman joking. But her facial expression remains the same.

"Maybe," is all the younger witch can reply with, unconvinced at her grandma's words but touched nonetheless that the woman has so much faith in her.

Her grandma had helped shape her into who she was today, helped her understand what she was capable of and helped her control it. Mallory doesn't think she could know a better woman, one who's so kind and understanding and so open minded about so much. She honestly doesn't know what she would do without her grandma, without her care and acceptance.

She feels more love for this woman than she does her own mother at times. She's always just been so strong, so lively and nurturing, even as she grew older and more frail.

It's this, the overwhelming amount of love and appreciation Mallory feels in that moment, that over shadows the dull pinch at the young witch's side.

Her grandma's death comes almost abruptly, her health declining at an alarming and accelerated rate until she's bed ridden and hooked to a special breathing machine.

Mallory is there at her side through all of it, holding her hand and offering her some comfort in her final days. Her eyes are constantly swollen from crying, the guilt of not listening to her gut feeling until it was too late overwhelming the sharp, familiar pain.

"Don't cry, dear," her grandma had said to her on one of those final days, weakly bringing her hand up and wiping her tears away with a tender touch.

"I could help you," Mallory whispers, sniffling as more tears fall. "I can help heal you and you can be better again."

Her grandma had smiled gently at her, stroking her cheek with the back of her finger. "There's some things even magic can't fix, Mallory. It's just my time to go. You have to be strong."

"But you're the only person I trust," the young witch had pleaded. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"You're an exceptional young witch, Mallory. You never needed my help to realize your potential," her grandma assures her quietly.

"You're the only one who understands," Mallory had tried again.

"There's always going to be people who don't understand witches; there always has been. You can't let their fear and ignorance influence how you live. There are others like you out there that will understand."

"But what if I'm the only witch left?"

"You're not," her grandma said firmly. "Our kind have been in hiding since Salem, there are more of us out there, perhaps even closer to home than I could have ever imagined..." She coughed, effectively cutting herself off.

"Try to rest now," Mallory had murmured with a cracking voice, all questions disappearing from her head as she stared worriedly down at the sick woman.

Her grandma was gone a few days after they had that conversation.

She didn't know how to deal with it, not really. She never went through something like this before, a major death. She was an only child of parents who had no siblings and she had no pets growing up. She never saw her dad's parents, and her grandpa seemed to have been gone from the picture before her mom was even born. She never even had to experience a friend moving away (all the kids at school thought she was too weird as they grew older, so she really had no friends).

She was the closest to her grandma, not just in terms of witchcraft (although, that did significantly strengthen her bond). Her grandma was the one person Mallory could rely on with everything in her life.

Her grandma was the person that showed up to her creative writing and poetry competitions. She helped her grandma every week in her garden, learned so much about plants and herbal medicines through the resourceful woman. And when her parents were fighting, Mallory always knew she could come to her grandma's and stay as long as she liked (or until her mother forced her to come home).

She sat in her room in silence, mostly, her flower crown hidden away in her closet (it was too painful to look at). She hardly came out, hardly ate, hardly slept. She doesn't go to school, can't bring herself to listen to music, and shuts all the blinds in her room, leaving it in complete darkness. All she really does is cry until she can't anymore, or until her body tires out and collapses back into the pillows from exhaustion.

She feels too numb to even think about her magic, to feel the pain of her succulents wasting away in the corner of her room. The pain of losing the one person that ever gave two shits about her in life towered over any physical pain she feels.

Although, her magic doesn't ignore her; it simply doesn't have that luxury. As her emotions flare, so do her powers, sending books in her room toppling to the floor with loud thuds, setting fire to (thankfully) the candles in her room instead of the drapes. Her magic is even causing her to float in her sleep, none of which she even notices.

Then her parents catch her floating.

Mallory hadn't been to school in weeks, something they normally could care less about. Until the school principal shows up to their doorstep with a truancy letter, threatening to take her parents to court over their daughter's unexcused absences. It ends with an argument that leaves both the principal and her father red in the face from screaming, and a sharp, loud slam of the door from her furious mother. They storm up to their daughter's room like rabid hell hounds, fuming with the truancy letter crushed in her mother's hand.

The door slamming open isn't what wakes up Mallory; it's the violent crack of her mother's palm on her cheek that startles her, causing her to fall back on her bed and hit her head off the headrest.

"What the  _hell_ were you doing?!" her father demands in a tone that could literally shake the walls of her room.

Mallory winces at his tone, cowering away from her infuriated parents. Her eyes are wide in shock and surprise, her palm caressing the cheek her mother had just smacked. "I—"

"What are you now, some kind of devil worshipper!?" her father continues to demand.

"I—I don't..." she stammers, eyes swimming with tears as she looks at both her parents with a dumbfounded look. "I do-don't know wh-what I di-"

"I should have kept you away from my mother," her mother spits out in disgust. "That crazy bitch has you floating around in your sleep and lord knows what else."

At the mention of her grandma, Mallory flares defensively. "Don't talk about her like that. The only thing she ever taught me was to be proud of who I was. She helped me understand my potential instead of suppressing it like you would have."

For the second time that night, her mother's hand cracks across her cheek, the force of the slap actually sending her back against the wall.

For a few minutes, Mallory's parents stare daggers at her as she silently weeps and winces, hand rubbing at her cheek. Her mother is breathing hard, as if she were a rabid animal that just wanted to have a go at a wounded animal. It frightened Mallory deeply to see her like this, see her look like the crazed Cruela De Vil from the old 101 Dalmatians movie.

When her mother finally speaks, it's in a low, menacing voice. "I want you out of my house."

Mallory simply stares back at her, too scared, too shocked to speak.

"I want you to pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house," her mother seethes. She moves closer to her daughter, getting up in her face as she snarls, "You have ten minutes to pack up your shit and get out. If I so much as see your face around my property again, your father and I will ensure you get treated the same way your kind has been for centuries."

She grabs her husband's arm and forcefully drags him out, slamming Mallory's door so hard, the frame disconnects.

Mallory wasted no time packing after that, only grabbing a small side pack, the small amount of crumpled bills on her dresser, and quickly throwing in a few articles of clothing. She has no room for her personal possessions, like her crystals or succulents, but she does grab a spell book gifted to her from her grandma and the flower crown that had been stuffed in her closet before grabbing a jacket and slinging it over her shoulder.

She leaves the house with six minutes to spare and takes off quickly down the road, keeping her head down as she speed walks away. She doesn't stop until she's downtown, far enough away from her home for her to process what just happened.

Her cheek is burning from the abuse at the hands of her mother, her tears providing the tiniest amount of relief on the affected area. Her hands are shaking just as bad as her legs, and for the first time since she's stepped foot out the door, Mallory finally accesses her situation.

She has absolutely no where to go, not anywhere her parents wouldn't find her anyway. Going to her grandma's house would basically be the same as handing her parents gasoline and a lighter. Her parents would search all homeless shelters they could to ensure they got her message.

She wasn't welcome anywhere near here anymore, and staying here would be suicide.

The money she has won't get her a metro pass, and probably would be enough for her to just barely make it across town. She would be lucky if what she had would get her something to eat. She couldn't apply for a job; the process would take too long. Her only option is to keep walking.

So she does.

She doesn't stop walking throughout the night, sticking to back alleys and side streets to avoid being seen by the police or (god forbid) her insane parents. She reaches the outer perimeter of the small city she was born and raised in at midnight and doesn't even stop to look back. She travels down the road until she reaches the interstate, ducking into the woods and continuing on until sunrise.

She didn't know what way she was going for the first few hours of walking, and her cell phone was one of her possessions she had left behind in her rush to get the hell away from her parents. She really can't tell until she peeks outside the tree line to study the signs on the interstate. From where she is now, she figures she's just heading into Atlanta.

She's in the heart of the city with the sun shining directly above her when she feels it, that same sharp, familiar tug she's felt most of her life. It stops her dead in her tracks, and she listens carefully to her surroundings. When she hears a child crying, she's immediately pulled towards the sound, not even hesitating as she carries herself over to the noise.

What she finds a few blocks down is two older school aged boys surrounding a crying girl who's holding a black, lifeless lump in her hands. From what Mallory can tell, the boys are the girl's brothers or friends and not the cause of her distress as they try to get her to calm down.

"We have to help her! She's so little!" the girl wails, carefully stroking the black ball in her hands— a kitten— with so much caution it breaks Mallory's heart.

Both boys just stare down at the girl sadly, looking up at each other with lost looks, both unable to tell their sister that there was no helping a dead kitten.

"What happened?" Mallory asks softly, unable to stop herself from being too abrupt.

The boys spook at the sound of her voice, but they don't look scared as Mallory comes closer.

"We were walking home from school and we came down this alley," the first boy started.

"There were these boys kicking around this garbage bag that was yowling and crying," the second boy continues sadly, kneeling down to his sister to comfort her.

The first boy swallows hard. "They ran off when they saw us and we found that kitten in the bag, all beat up like that."

"We have to get her to a vet!" the girl pleads, looking up at the boy that kneeled down to her. "They can help her!"

The boy that was still standing looked at Mallory with a sad expression, as if begging her to break it to his sister that no one could help a kitten.

"Can I see the kitten?"

She can't help but ask, the pain in her side was too sharp to ignore, and seeing how upset these three kids were absolutely tore her to pieces. Seeing the kitten in the little girl's palm, all mangled and taken too soon from life only made her want to help more.

The girl looked up at Mallory doubtfully, suspiciously, as if she would just smack the kitten into the ground and mangle it even further.

So she kneels down and offers the girl a soft half smile. "Hey, I won't hurt her, I promise. I want to try and help, okay?"

With a wary gaze and shaking hands, the girl finally gently places the lifeless kitten in Mallory's palm and watches on cautiously.

Holding the kitten in her hands, Mallory realizes just how big it is compared to the multiple insects, plants and spiders she had brought back to life and it intimidates her. But her magic has a magnetic pull to the kitten, so she forces herself to shake off her concerns and places her other hand gently over the cat.

The pulsing sensation she would normally feel is multiplied, an almost searing burning feeling shooting throughout her body and radiating from her palm. The force of the magic she's exerting almost has her jerking her hand away, but she stays put.

The kids watch her with concentrated, concerned expressions, the little girl sniffling as she stares at the kitten.

Mallory feels a sharp zap that feels like she's been shocked and opens her eyes wide, breathing heavily as she sways back on her heels.

There's a collective breath being held by all three children as they look at the cat, and for a split second, Mallory is worried that her powers weren't enough to bring back the kitten.

And then...

_Mrow._

The boys' jaws fall open as they look at the kitten in Mallory's hand let out another sharp cry, looking around curiously with bright blue eyes. The girl gasps and smiles wildly, eagerly accepting the kitten when she's handed back. "You saved her!" she squeals happily. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Mallory, feeling a bit lightheaded and suddenly drained, just smiles tiredly and continues on walking the same way she started. She reaches a small park and finds a bench, falling asleep as soon as she lays across the metal seat.

That's how the next few days of her life go; she travels during the night and finds places to sleep (benches, against trees, in old, abandoned homes) until she sets off at dusk and the cycle repeats. A few hours after her encounter with the children in the alley, she goes into a local chain grocery store and buys a gallon of water and an energy bar with the little amount of money she has. The water is a little heavy for her to carry by the handle for too long, so she makes room for it in her carry on. The energy bar, she quickly polishes off before she's out of the store's parking lot.

She doesn't come by food after that. All the plants she passes when she's outside of Atlanta are foreign to her, looking far too pretty to scream anything other than "Danger, don't eat me!" When she finds herself on another stretch of highway, she comes across a few honey suckle blossoms, but can't bring herself to pluck the flowers for such little nutrition. And though her stomach protests, she keeps on walking.

The weather is kind to her for a few days, the days not too hot and the nights not too cold, comfortable for her to sleep and walk in without much trouble. But eventually, her luck on that end runs out too and she's caught in a massive storm that leaves her drenched to the bone.

She is lucky, however, that she's in the middle of a small town in the early hours of the evening. She's able to duck into the nearest place she sees, a small family diner.

It's a quiet place with only a man at the counter and a woman behind it, who look up as soon as the bell at the front door rings and announces Mallory's arrival.

She ducks her head and flushes in shame. "I'm sorry," she murmurs softly. "I- I just needed to get out of the rain," she explains, staying on the shoe mat at the front door so she's not dripping on the tiles.

The man briefly acknowledges Mallory before peaking behind her and tsking at the scene he sees outside before going back to the paper he's reading. "Seems like it's gonna flood out there."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need hon," the worker tells Mallory with a friendly smile. "Come on and grab a seat, make yourself at home."

She flashes another warm, welcoming smile that relaxes the young witch a bit as she slowly sits down on the opposite end of the counter, far away from the drafty door.

The man glances up at Mallory again, tsking and shaking his head. "That storm got you good, girl."

The worker looks over at Mallory in concern. "Can I get you something to warm you up? Coffee? Soup? A bowl of gumbo?"

Mallory immediately shakes her head, refusing to voice she has no money.

The worker hums and places a hand on her hip. "How about I get you a bowl of gumbo? That should warm you right up."

Again, Mallory shakes her head, although her stomach grumbles stubbornly at the mention of food, at the thought of having a hot meal for the first time in days.

Again, the woman hums before she heads to the kitchen, coming out a few moments later with a steaming bowl of gumbo and setting it in front of her.

Mallory's mouth waters at the tomatoey scent that hits her nostrils, swallowing hard to keep from diving into the bowl. "I don't have any—"

The woman shakes her head and cuts her off with a series of hums. "Don't you worry about money, child. That gumbo's on the house. Couldn't live with myself if I let you sitting there to freeze. Go on, eat up."

There's a moment of brief hesitation from Mallory as she slowly unravels her spoon from a napkin, but that moment disappears quickly enough and she dives into the meal in front of her. She practically forgoes all table manners as soon as the gumbo hits her lips, shoveling spoonful after spoonful into her mouth.

"Can I get you another bowl?" the woman offers with a saddened look on her face, as if she knew the girl hadn't eaten in a while.

Mallory shakes her head quickly. "I couldn't—"

The man a few seats down from her speaks up again, shaking his head. "You kids are too stubborn for your own good these days." He puts a ten dollar bill down on the counter. "Go ahead and get her another bowl on me," he tells the worker. "I insist on it."

Mallory feels her eyes water at the kindness being displayed to her, kindness that her parents neglected to give her for almost her entire life. And here it was being given to her from a pair of complete and utter strangers. All she can bring herself to choke out is a quiet, "Thank you."

The man offers her a slight smile. "You take it easy on that gumbo now, ya hear? Give your stomach time to settle."

As instructed, Mallory eats her second bowl a lot slower, taking her time to really observe her surroundings. The diner has an old fifties vibe to it, from the bright blue counter tops, to the checkered, tiled floor, to the bright, red booths, to the swiveling barstools that adorn the counter. Behind the counter was a shelf full of old soda bottles and milkshake cups that hung from a shelf by their bottoms. The only thing that seemed modern in the place was a flatscreen tv perched up in the corner directly across from the counter Mallory sat at.

She focuses a bit on that while she eats, staring at a news report that was on tv about an accident along the interstate. As the reporter goes on, nothing really sticks out to her; no fatalities or major injuries, so she's starting to tune it out when—

"Coming up, an exclusive interview with Cordelia Goode, headmistress of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Women. A school that was recently revealed to the public by Ms. Goode to be full of witches! Witches, can you believe that?"

As the anchors banter, Mallory's mind whirls around with all the information she had just heard, trying to process it all.

She wasn't the only witch. There were other witches out there, and they were publicly known about. The house was still standing, from the next shot Mallory could tell. There was no hateful messages scrawled onto the stone pillars outside the gates, no angry mob of protestors, and a few girls walking around the property without a care in the world, as if they never had to worry about the dangers the world posed to witches outside the gates.

She knew her grandma would have ever considered this to be possible, hell, she was having a hard time believing this place for herself! But here it was, a safe haven for women just like her, being broadcast right in front of her.

As Mallory watched the interview with Cordelia Goode, she began to feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. The woman had a warm smile, her eyes shone with such passion and care as she talked about the school, about witchcraft that it made Mallory feel less alone, less afraid for her future.

"One thing I told Lana Winters, and that I tell everyone I come across is that  witches aren't evil, we aren't people who you should fear. This school is not a threat to the community, to the state, or to the country. We don't choose to become witches, we're born with it, and all this school offers is a safe space for young girls who have no where else to go or who simply want to learn to control their abilities, nothing more and nothing less."

Mallory thinks her grandma would have really liked Cordelia.

At the end of the interview, a number and address for the school pops up on the screen briefly, but it's long enough for Mallory to know exactly where she's heading to.  
                                ———  
It takes Mallory roughly eight hours in the pouring rain for her to make it to the outside gates of Miss Robichaux's. She's even more drenched than she was when she entered the diner, but once she sees the familiar entrance way to the school, she can't bring herself to care. For the first time in a week since she's left home, she feels hope. She's awestruck almost as she stares through the gates at the school, gently grabbing a hold of the black bars to ensure herself that this was all very real.

She doesn't know how long she's standing there, looking up at the building when she feels a hand grasp her shoulder. Immediately, she jumps back and lets go of the gate, whipping around and coming face to face with an older woman with wet, limp and bright red hair.

"Heavens be, child, you'll catch your death out here," she says with a soft, yet concerned voice. The hand on her shoulders moves to her back as she ushers Mallory through the gates and up the stairs. "My goodness, you are quite chilled," she tsks, gently persuading the girl inside the door.

"I—I'm," Mallory starts through chattering teeth, feeling the full effect of all the rain in the warm walls of the academy. She's too cold to even feel bothered about this strange woman's arm on her back, guiding her around like she's helpless.

"Hush now, you need to warm up," the woman gently chides, looking up a grand stairwell curiously. "Zoe? Delia?"

A girl probably only a few years Mallory's senior comes down the stairs at the sound of her name, seeming quite confused as to why she's being woken up at such an ungodly hour. Her attention is drawn to Mallory and she rushes over to the two, frowning in concern. "What happened?"

"Poor girl was just outside the gate for who knows how long," the redheaded woman tells Zoe, tasking pitifully. She inspects Mallory further and tsks again at the bruise on her cheek from her mother.

Zoe gives Mallory a concerned glance before turning back to the older woman. "I'll go get Cordelia," she tells her, quickly making her way towards her stairs.

"Do be a dear and start the fireplace in her office, will you?" the older woman asks Zoe, who nods in affirmation before continuing up the stairs.

"I didn't— I didn't mean to wa-wake anyone," Mallory stammers, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Don't be hard on yourself, dear. This academy is a safe space for all our sister witches at all hours," the older woman insists as she leads Mallory up the stairs. They walk quickly, yet quietly past a series of closed doors, finally going into the one that was open. The redhead woman gently guides Mallory down on the couch in the room, stepping back only to fetch her a blanket.

Zoe comes back in a few minutes later, flicking her wrist precisely. To Mallory's shock and amazement, the fireplace at the far end of the room flares up in flame. Zoe then turns to the older woman, who sets a blanket across Mallory's shoulders. "Cordelia will be in in a moment," she softly informs her, folding her hands together and standing by the doorway as professionally as she can be in pajamas.

"Thank you, Zoe," the older woman sighs out in relief.

Cordelia Goode comes into the room a minute later. Though she's tied in a robe, she has a concerned look on her face that reminds Mallory of a worried mother. "Are you alright?" she asks in a sweet, caring tone that makes Mallory immediately trust her.

She nods, wrapping the blanket she was given tightly around herself. "I didn't mean to wake anyone," she repeats in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry."

Cordelia shakes her head immediately at this, frowning in concern. "You were in trouble and you came to us for help. Never apologize for that." Her eyes hone in on the bruise on Mallory's cheek, lips twitching downward sadly. "Zoe?"

"I'll go grab some mud," Zoe murmurs in understanding, walking out the door quickly.

"And I'll go brew up some tea," the redhead woman states, moving from Mallory's side to go towards the door.

"Thank you, Myrtle," Cordelia says gratefully, sitting in a chair across from Mallory.

"I'm Cordelia Goode, headmistress of this academy," she introduces herself gently.

"Mallory."

"What brings you to us, Mallory?" she asks cautiously, but in a way that doesn't seem to pry too deeply.

Mallory swallows hard, staring down at her hands. "My parents kicked me out for floating in my sleep," she murmurs. "They thought I was some type of devil worshipper. I had no where else to go."

"Well, this place could be your new home, if you want it to be," Cordelia replies, trying not to sound too choked up at the girl's admission, tries not to let her mind wonder about what she had suffer through.

Mallory stares at the crackling fire for a few minutes, letting the offer hang in the air. How long had her grandma wished for something like this, a place where witches could be themselves safely, unashamed of who they are? How much had her grandma wished that there were other witches out there, witches like Zoe, Myrtle and Cordelia? How long had she wanted this exact place for Mallory to exist without repercussion, without judgement or fear?

The offer is left hanging in the air as the two talk, as mud is slathered on Mallory's bruise. "It's the humic acid in the mud, reduces the redness and swelling," Zoe had informed her with a gentle smile, Cordelia watching on with a small, proud smile.

It's left in the air as Myrtle brings back tea, as Cordelia sends both women back off to bed.

The offer is left open when Mallory tells Cordelia about her history with magic, about her grandma and how she taught her practically everything she knows. "She said that our bloodline traced all the way back to Salem, and that my ability was rare to find in our kind."

"Wha is your main ability?" Cordelia had asked.

"She always called it resurgence. I could bring things as small as insects and small plants back to life ever since I was a child," Mallory had told her softly, stirring around her tea slowly.

Cordelia had smiled slightly, almost sadly. "I had a... a friend with the same ability. You remind me a lot of her. She would have really liked you." She almost had a distant look in her eyes that she shakes off with a few blinks. "It is an amazingly rare ability to posses. You're a gifted individual."

They talk a bit more, even after Mallory had changed into the dry, warm clothes Zoe had brought for her. "The shirt might be a little big on you, but it's dry," the brunette had informed her with a small smile. "Welcome to Robichaux's." And then she had gone back to bed.

As Cordelia and Mallory finish off their conversation, the younger witch learns that Cordelia is the Supreme of the coven and tries her best to be the complete opposite of her mother.

She thinks her grandma would have liked to learn that the coven is good and capable in Cordelia's caring and nurturing hands.

"You can stay in here for the night," Cordelia tells Mallory as she stands, gathering the dishes. "If you want to, I can take you wherever you need to go in the morning. And remember, you'll always have a home here, Mallory. You know where to find us."

Mallory looks around, at the newspaper articles on the back wall of Cordelia's office, at the picture of the new students that had arrived a few months before she showed up. She looks at Cordelia, at a woman who's offered her more care and support in the past hour than her own mother did her whole life.  Mallory feels welcome at this school,  feels comfortable and safe enough to call this place her home.

"Thank you for the offer but... I think I'm going to stay."

Cordelia gives her another warm, caring smile. "Good. I'll get you a room first thing in the morning. Welcome to the coven, Mallory."


	2. an exceptional young witch II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mallory's adjusting to the academy UwU
> 
>  
> 
> there's some angst

"Miss Cordelia, you wanted to see me?"

Mallory's fingers, now adorned with the few rings she had found at the very bottom of her carry on the morning after she arrived at the academy, make an audible clicking noise as she grips the door frame to peek into the room. When she spots Zoe and Myrtle flanking either side of the Supreme at her desk, she pauses, suddenly feeling nervous.

Had she done something wrong in the week she had been at the academy? Was she supposed to attend classes the past couple of days, even though the Supreme insisted that the young witch adjust?

Her nerves are slightly eased when Cordelia looks up from the paperwork on her desks and shoots Mallory a warm smile. "Yes, of course. Come on in, Mallory."

The young witch slowly enters the office, hesitating by the door. "Do you want me to shut it?" she asks awkwardly, her stomach in twisted knots.

Myrtle gently waves her hand, shutting the door softly. "No need to be nervous, dear, you aren't in trouble."

"Quite the opposite, really," Zoe assures her, smiling warmly to ease Mallory's nerves.

Cordelia's voice takes on that soft, motherly tone that the young witch has become far too familiar with in the past week, relaxing immediately at the Supreme's expression. "How have you been adjusting? I know the transition can overwhelming for new students."

Mallory pauses briefly to consider this question.

Ever since the first night that she showed up at the academy, she has been met with nothing but open arms and acceptance. The other students are nice to her, the three women in front of her are kind enough to give her space, but occasionally checked on her throughout the week. She's in a room alone for now, but she finds that she wouldn't mind a roommate if it came down to it. She's fed three square meals a day and given the freedom to do whatever as she figures out the routine at the academy.

The rules are fair and simple enough to follow: no using magic on anyone else unless told otherwise by the council, curfew is at 10PM on weekdays, midnight on weekends, no performing any of the seven wonders unless specified to, and, under no circumstances, is anyone allowed to use dark magic under the academy's roof. Cordelia's cat, Phoenix, has taken a liking to her, often curled up at her feet during her meals and accompanying her around the academy (even now, the black cat is weaving in and around her ankles).

She's never really alone and has already begun to feel safer here than she ever did at her parents house within just a week of her stay.

It truly feels as if this is the place where she belongs.

"Pretty good," she answers truthfully, finally sitting down in the chair in front of Cordelia's desk, stroking Phoenix under her chin after the feline hops up into her lap. "It's a lot different than what I'm used to, but it's nice."

The Supreme smiles warmly. "Good, I'm glad. Since you're adjusting so well, we think it's time that you can start going to classes."

"Sounds good to me," the young girl says with a light smile, the full weight on her chest lifted. "How do I sign up?"

"You will take courses such as potions and herbology, have the option to take the history of our coven and other classes costumed to you. Basic witching 101 classes," supplies Myrtle. "You'll take a series of tests to determine which other courses are best suited to you and your abilities."

"Tests?" Mallory asks, frowning in concern.

"Think of them like the SATs," Zoe says quickly. "Only instead of giving you a scantron, we're asking you to show us the extent of your abilities."

"Whether you pass or cannot pass a test we provide doesn't make you anymore or any less of a witch," Cordelia assures the young girl. "We only want to understand the extent of your abilities so that the classes you're put into can best teach you how to control your powers and help them grow."

"Okay." Her response is slow, unsure. What if she was unable to do anything that was asked of her? Would they kick her out and leave her to her own devices again? Would she be forced back home.

The Supreme shoots the girl a calming, reassuring smile as Myrtle gets up to grab a few things. "You'll do fine, Mallory."

"Divination," Myrtle announces as she sets a cup of colorful, smooth stones in front of Mallory. "One of the tests of the Seven Wonders. An uncommon ability amongst our kind, but a useful one nonetheless. Using the stones, you will tell us the location of an item that belonged to one of the academy's former Supremes."

After glancing up and seeing the encouraging nods from Cordelia and Zoe, Mallory looks back up at Myrtle. The red head rolls out the stones on the small coffee table in front of her. "Mallory, dear, using the stones, divine the location of an item belonging to former Supreme, Fiona Goode."

"Focus, strong intention," Cordelia tells Mallory.

The girl takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, hovering her hands above the stones. As she moves around, she feels nothing. Frowning, she moves them to the upper corner of the table and stiffens a bit. There, in the attic underneath a long line of dolls appears to be a coffin of sorts with a pair of diamond earrings and a ring inside.

Pulling her hands back slowly into her lap, Mallory looked at the three women watching her. "Upstairs in the attic, under the row of dolls in the front left corner."

There's a shared look of confusion, especially between the older members of the council. Zoe slowly stands up, palms on the desk to push herself up. "I'll be right back." And then she's gone in a wisp of smoke.

"Did I do something wrong?" Mallory asks nervously, playing with her fingers, twisting her rings around.

"Of course not, dear child," Myrtle assures her.

Not much more is said until Zoe appears again, palms closed around the items Mallory divined. She holds them out for Cordelia to inspect.

The Supreme takes them delicately, turning to Mallory. "Items my grandmother had passed along to Fiona. She wore these every day for as long as I could remember, and gave me the earrings a few days before faking her death while our coven found her successor." Now to Zoe and Myrtle. "Spalding must have hid these away before we cast his spirit out of this house."

"He kept a live baby up there," Zoe said flatly. "And Madison's body. Jewelry belonging to Fiona is the least weird thing we've found up in that attic."

"Excellent!" came Myrtle's enthusiastic response, clapping her hands together, which snapped the two other council members back to the test. "Why, we haven't had a witch with such advanced divining properties since Zoe came along!" Watching on excitedly, she gestures towards the stones. "Put them back in the cup using telekinesis."

Easy.

Mallory simply waves her hand over the stones and they all float neatly into the cup. She looks up towards Cordelia for approval.

The Supreme smiles proudly, giving a small nod. "There you go."

She passes concillium and pyrokinesis easily as well, using the mind controlling ability to get Zoe to play Cordelia in an intense game of rock, paper, scissors and lighting up an entire candelabra.

Vitalum vitalis is another easy test, with Zoe explaining the differences between her naturally born gifts of resurgence to the other as she revives a recently deceased belladonna bush. "Basically, the vitalum vitalis has a very small window in which it must be performed," the young council member had said. "With resurgence, there is no window of time unless you're working with a skeleton, because you can reach into that place between life and death and bring whatever or whoever back."

When they go out to the middle of the empty yard, Mallory looks confused. "I performed five of the Seven Wonders," she says out loud.

"You did," Cordelia agrees. "They're the most common abilities among our kind. It's not uncommon for a witch of your caliber to be showing three or four abilities, but since you have excelled at five, we've decided to have you try your hand at transmutation."

"Like what Zoe did earlier?"

"Precisely," answers Myrtle.

As Mallory looks around the nearly barren land, Zoe fills in. "It's precaution. There's nothing around that you might accidentally transmutate into or hurt yourself on."

"What do I have to do?"

The youngest member of the council smiles mischievously, appearing inches from Mallory and gently tapping her shoulder. "Catch me if you can." And with that, she appears on the other side of the field.

Mallory glances once more towards the Supreme and Myrtle before focusing on the task she was given. It's a bit harder to do and it feels weird, like a vacuum sucked her up and threw her back down a few feet from where she once was. Zoe gives her an encouraging smile and before Mallory knows it, she's chasing her around the area with transmutation.

Zoe, it turns out, is almost an expert on transmutation despite failing it during the Seven Wonders. With no obstacles in her way, she's able to move from place to place just before Mallory can reach her.

She appears once by Myrtle and Cordelia while Mallory appears at the other end of the backyard. "She's good," she comments to the Supreme, who nods in agreement.

"It's almost like it's coming naturally to her," Cordelia murmurs, watching the newest student look around before disappearing again.

Zoe is quick to act, appearing on a path closest to the greenhouse. As she looks back to Myrtle and Cordelia, she feels a tap on the back of her arm. Jumping forward in surprise, she whips around to see Mallory standing there with a smile. "Gotcha."

It's something that can be completely coincidental, Zoe thinks, but she can't help feeling a bit shocked that the young witch was able to appear in the exact place the council member was going to be moments before she was actually there. She lets out a small chuckle, giving the girl a nod as she pats her shoulder. "You're good. Real good."

Mallory simply shrugs, unable to stop the giddy smile on her face at the praise. Looking back at Cordelia and Myrtle, she sees the two mirroring Zoe's impressed and proud expressions. She has that same warm feeling in the pit of her stomach she used to have with her grandmother. Her use of magic once again being praised and encouraged rather than shunned and discouraged is a familiar, comforting feeling.

She's excused by the three council members after that, Myrtle insisting that she go and get some lunch and some well deserved rest with Cordelia adding that she would be by tell her the class schedule later that night.

So she does just that, grabbing apple slices and one of the snack sized containers of peanut butter from the pantry before heading up to her room. Being alone, she doesn't bother knocking and waltzed into the spacious room, closing the door with her hip.

It doesn't hit her that she's beyond exhausted until she hits the mattress, almost immediately falling asleep when her head rests against the pillow. The apple slices and peanut butter are forgotten on her bedside table.

It's well into the night when she's woken up by the Supreme, who politely knocks on her door and awaits permission before coming in. Mallory slowly eats her forgotten snack as Cordelia hands her a sheet of paper and explains her class schedule.

She has a beginners class that all witches take when they arrive at the academy, which she thinks is more than fair. There's a coven history class that the Supreme herself teaches, but Cordelia reminds the girl that the class is 100% optional. (Mallory wants to take it anyway).

She has an herb and potions class that Myrtle teaches, often going out into the meadows and swamps that are just outside of the city limits. A half hour with the Supreme (to work on certain abilities or to control other abilities). Another basic magic class that Zoe teaches. And a free period.

"It is a bit longer than some," Cordelia admits with her finger over the colored box that coordinated Mallory's free period. "It was a unanimous decision between the council that you have a bit more free time because you seem to have better grip and control of your abilities than others. Not to say we won't help you if you ever need it," she adds quickly, reassuringly.

"It's okay, I get it," Mallory assures the Supreme, actually feeling a sense of excitement at the free time she's being given. Almost three full hours for her to hone her craft, read in the library with Phoenix perched in her lap, to just  _relax_.

Cordelia gives the young witch a grateful smile before continuing, "You may do whatever you wish in this time and go any where in the house." She pauses a moment. "The attic mostly off limits— really Zoe's the only person that's been up there in months. The greenhouse, however, isn't off limits to anyone. No one goes out there anymore, but you're more than welcome to spend your time there if you wish."

It's not something Mallory really expects to hear, but she beams wildly at. Being surrounded by things she's comfortable and familiar with, doing something she absolutely loves, being reminded of the one thing her grandmother was passionate about for three whole hours sounds like a dream.

The young girl's eyes suddenly burn with tears, at the overwhelmingly warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't get over how kind everyone was at the academy, how she's being treated, how her magic is being  _praised_  and how much this place reminded her of her grandmother's. It was a space where she could just  _be._  "Thank you, Miss Cordelia," she murmurs emotionally, swallowing hard.

Cordelia's gaze is soft and kind as she gently gives the girl's shoulder a squeeze. "Are you alright?" she asks softly, setting the girl's schedule down on her bedside table.

Mallory nods quickly and wipes her eyes to catch the tears that have started to fall. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just... This place just reminds me so much of my grandmother's. It feels like home already and I've only been here a week," she admits out loud to the headmistress. "You're all being so nice to me and I'm being encouraged to use my magic instead of being ridiculed for it. I don't even know how to thank you, everyone here, for what they've done for me in the short time you've known me."

Cordelia seems extremely touched by the young witch's confession, her own eyes welling up with tears. She hesitantly opens her arms and Mallory falls into her embrace without questioning. It's a gesture that's foreign, but so comforting, so caring and tender. Mallory trusts this woman immensely, looks to her as the mother she wishes she desperately had growing up.

"You don't have to repay us, Mallory. This academy is open for all witches, no matter their situation or background. And we're so glad to have you, you already fit in so well at the academy and we couldn't have been more grateful for you finding us," Cordelia assures her softly in that familiar motherly tone Mallory's becoming so accustomed to.

The Supreme gently breaks from their hug, giving the young witch's hands a squeeze. "Your magic will never be ridiculed again, not under this roof, or anywhere else again," she promises quietly.

Mallory gives her a soft smile in return.

Cordelia returns the gesture and stands with a soft sigh. "Breakfast starts at 7:00 and classes begin at 8:00," she reminds her before she opens the door, still facing Mallory. "Go ahead and get some sleep; you need it after today."

The young witch nods with another soft smile. "I will. Goodnight, Miss Cordelia."

The Supreme shoots the girl one last kind smile before replying, "Goodnight, Mallory," and shutting the door.

Getting into the routine of getting up early, eating a delicious breakfast prepared by the coven's chef, and going to classes actually comes surprisingly easy to Mallory. She was never much of an early riser before she came here, but doesn't find it too difficult to wake up when her alarm rings out.

The classes are fascinating to her, especially when one of the three teachers uses their magic to demonstrate a spell that the rest of the students attempt to follow under their guidance.

The three women each have their own styles of teaching. Myrtle's a heavily involved teacher with strict rules, holding her classes in the backyard (they haven't made a trip outside the academy's property yet) or in a lab-converted-room and telling the girls what substance does what, what plants cure that, what chemicals the girls should not handle alone and so on. Cordelia's a bit softer with her approach to teaching, but extremely passionate nonetheless as she goes on about the coven's vast and rich history. Zoe's serious, but more laid back than the older members of the council, often taking a hands off style to her teaching to let the girls try some minor spells on their own, praising them when they did it right, correcting them gently and guiding them when they don't.

Her free time is mostly spent out in the greenhouse, where she reads her grandmother's spell book or tends to the plants in there that seem a bit abandoned. She trims them up, waters them, and nurses dying plants back to health. She's even started a small succulent garden, which she's happy with because it's so familiar.

During one of her sessions, she stumbles upon a book with "For Cordelia" written in an elegantly attempted font on the front in black sharpie marker, a small, black heart doodled after. Curiosity gets the better of the young witch as she cautiously opens the cover, quickly skimming what's inside. Recipes for natural medicines, pastes that protect one from insect bites, others that heal the rashes from poisonous plants, oils that, with the right spells (also listed), would cure just about any broken bone, and a recipe for a mud that could be put on just about any injury and heal it. At the very end of the book, written just inside the back cover is, "Thank you for giving me a real home."

Mallory gently sets the book back down on the desk, feeling a bit ashamed for looking in at the small, but deeply intimate and personal message. (She still takes the book from the greenhouse before dinner and gives it to the Supreme when she's alone in her office without an explination, leaving her alone to read the message for herself. She feels it's only right for Cordelia to see, to have.)

When her free time isn't spent in the greenhouse (which is rare), she's actually spending time with a few other witches she's become friends with. It's a bit odd for her at first admittedly, having people she would even consider her friends. But the girls at the academy don't judge her for her magical ability, or her obsession with nature. They embrace her for who she is and appreciate her company (and slowly, but surely, she begins to appreciate theirs too).

One witch, Abigail, is only a few years older than Mallory herself, and is an extremely bright and cheerful girl with a peculiar ability to read people's auras. Her own bloodline dates back to the very first coven that started the boarding school. Tabitha, Abigail's roommate, is what Mallory would only describe as a true goth, from her straight black hair, dark, emphasized makeup, all black wardrobe, and almost translucent complexion. She hardly speaks, but is extremely intelligent and is almost a master at pyronesis. Mallory doesn't know much about her other than her parents shipped her off to the academy when she was caught setting things on fire.

The last person she would consider a friend a girl that's only a few weeks younger than Mallory herself named Morgana. The girl is in the room across from Tabitha and Abigail by herself and has the ability to control the elements. She, like many others, was shipped to Robichaux's due to her parents fear of their daughter's gift. But she's nice and lighthearted with a bit of a dark sense of humor that everyone seems to enjoy. Mallory spends time studying with the three others and often eats her meals with them, never once feeling excluded from the group.

It's the first time in Mallory's life she feels somewhat normal (in the sense that she's no longer an outcast or the weirdo, she means). The academy feels more and more like home each and every passing day, her old life disappearing from her mind like a heavy fog lifted from her shoulders.

She feels her powers are improving and even has better control over them. She's even stopped floating in her sleep and she hasn't unintentionally started a fire since the second day she was here (which was just a small fire in her trashcan that she extinguished rather quickly). She doesn't think there's anything out of the ordinary or even unique about her abilities.

Well, at first, and even then, she still thinks nothing of it until the council members react to it.

The first instance happens during her training session with the Supreme.

Cordelia had set a small, potted plant in front of her as soon as she sat down. Right away, Mallory could tell the orchid was dead, or at the very least dying. The petals are all brown, dry and look crunchy. The stem is discolored and drooping, the leaves curled tightly into a black, rotting ball.

Mallory looked to the Supreme curiously, who looks a bit embarrassed. She cleared her throat as her hands leave the pot before she had explained, "I'll admit, I may have slacked a little on my plants with the other duties I have. But I still managed to keep most of them around here thriving." She had then gestured around to the plants in her office, which were all green an lush.

"However, this one just went south." She rubbed her forehead and sighed heavily. "I've kept orchids before successfully, and I don't know what I did wrong for this one to get this bad. I've tried spells, potions, this and that to cure whatever ailed it, but it just..." She gestured once again to the plant as an explanation.

"I was hoping you could help me heal it, or at least help me figure out what's wrong with it," Cordelia had finished as Mallory had begun to examine the plant.

"It could be enchanted for one reason or another," the young witch had proposed casually, slowly turning the clay pot to observe the plant from all angles. "Someone could have been practicing protection spells and placed it on the plant."

Cordelia had seemed rather surprised at this, at how confident Mallory had seemed about the diagnosis. She hadn't even considered something like a protection spell could have caused the plant to die. But now that the suggestion was out in the open, she understands now why the plant refused any TLC. How her student had figured it out when even Zoe sometimes struggled with the same task however... "How could you..."

"It's not intense," Mallory had admitted, laying a palm flat on the side of the pot. "But you can feel a push. Or like there's a thin layer of something just surrounding it. Maybe the spell worked a little too well and the plant rejected any water or sunlight."

"You haven't come across something like this before?" Cordelia had wondered.

"No," the young witch had replied honestly.

It takes a few seconds for the Supreme's shock to wear off, but finally she had asked, "Have you ever broken a protection spell before?"

Mallory had simply shaken her head.

"Would you like to try?"

An enthusiastic nod that had Cordelia crack a small smile in response. "Okay, go get that spell book over there," she had pointed. "And we'll work on this together."

Cordelia's surprise is not something Mallory dwells on a lot. She just figures that the Supreme didn't expect to hear the answer she was given by the young witch, figures that this is a common ability among the more advanced students at the academy.

What happens in the woods with Myrtle does make her think maybe there's more to her own abilities than even she knows.

The red headed witch had taken the group out into nature for the first time, instructing the girls to collect herbs for a ratatouille that the chef was going to be preparing for dinner later that night.

Abigail and Tabitha were in the class with Mallory, Abigail quietly telling Mallory about the times Myrtle had taken the girls out to the woods while they picked stems of wild parsley. Tabitha was squatting a few feet away, slowly rolling a fallen blackberry between her fingers. Suddenly she stops, exhaling loud enough for her friends to hear and mumbling, "Damn," as she stares at something across the field.

Curiously, Mallory and Abigail peer over, Abigail's face paling at the mangled carcass of a deer. The poor thing was most likely the result of a hungry predator, but the scene was still grisly and horrifying nonetheless.

"Well... the circle of life," Abigail chokes out, turning away violently from the carcass.

Mallory, on the other hand, dropped the basket full of herbs and rushed over to the deer, kneeling beside it carefully. The edge of the animal's gruesome, deadly wounds are turning brown with rot and now that she's up close with the animal, she can smell the sickly sweet scent of decaying flesh.

Her magic, however, is almost attracted to the smell, recognizing it as something that needs fixed. Something that needs her helps.

So, without any hesitation whatsoever, Mallory's hands hover just over the animal. The amount of magic she's exerting makes her teeth vibrate and her skin crawl. If healing that stray kitten was painful, this felt almost like she was getting electrocuted. But she tunes out the pain, focusing on healing the deer in front of her.

A sickening cracking and crunching sound fills the air as the deers limbs snap back to their correct positions, back legs and neck becoming straight once again. The animal slowly stands up as the wounds in its neck and side close up. Mallory knows that the animal will be fine if she stops now. And yet she can't bring herself to quit healing the animal and—

The deer becomes smaller before her very eyes as it wobbles on its legs. The fur becomes more fluffy, more light and becomes specked with white spots, nose becoming more bright and black.

_Enough._

With a sharp gasp, Mallory drops her hands, stumbling slightly away from the creature.

The fully healed  _fawn_ looks around at all the shocked witches and spooks, running off deep into the woods.

Abigail is the first person to react, grabbing Mallory to steady her. The older witch's expression mirrors many of the others around them, her mouth open wide and her expression one of complete disbelief and shock.

Tabitha is staring at the place the deer once was, at the imprint the body left in the grass with wide eyes.

Myrtle's mouth opens and closes as she stares at Mallory, trying to figure how to respond. Finally, after a few moments, she manages to ask, "How?"

Mallory, still feeling slightly dizzy looks over at the council member, unable to answer that question herself, shocked at her own ability to  _undo_  the deer's wounds and restore it to its  _youth_. She didn't even know she could  _do_  something like that. Her magic had just told her to help the injured animal and she did. She just helped way more than she was really expecting to

"I had to help it," is the only answer she can supply Myrtle.

There's a very long pause as the council member processes this, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to come up with a response. Finally, she asks softly, "Are you alright?"

If Mallory's quite honest with herself, her head is spinning and she's unsure if she can stand up straight without her friend's assistance. But she doesn't want to ruin the class for everyone else and nods firmly, gently pushing Abigail away from her. "Yeah," she replies meekly, then in a stronger tone, repeats, "Yeah, I'm fi—"

She sways and stumbles a few feet, Tabitha's quick reflexes saving her from face planting into the ground.

Myrtle hums her disapproval at Mallory's stubbornness. "Abigail, Tabitha, go on and take our dear Mallory home. She exerted quite a bit of energy with that spell," the redhead gently instructs the two witches that are now flanking Mallory. "The rest of you follow me. We still have quite a bit of herbs to gather, come along now," she orders quietly, leading the other girls further into the woods.

"What  _was_  that?" Tabitha asks Mallory as soon as the sound of the group's footsteps fade. Her eyes are narrowed slightly and her tone is accusing. She looks a bit scared and sounds freaked out over what just happened.

"Tab," Abigail warns softly, shooting the younger girl a glare. "Not now." To Mallory, she speaks gently, cautiously, "Can you walk?"

Mallory tiredly looks up at the older girl, the grip on her arm slackening. She swallows hard and nods stiffly, refusing to meet Tabitha's intense gaze.

"Okay," Abigail sighs softly. "Okay, let's get you back home."

Mallory doesn't really remember the walk back to the academy, or much of the next few days if she's honest. She's in bed mostly, Phoenix curled up on her chest. The three council members check up on her on occasion, making sure she's healing, that her incredible display of magic didn't damage her beyond repair.

They don't treat her any different than they had before, other than Myrtle being slightly more impressed with her ability.

Tabitha, however, has become weary of her, refusing to acknowledge the slightly younger girl anymore. Abigail, too, seems more cautious around Mallory. She does make an attempt to be civil to the younger witch and still sits with her at lunch, but she no longer seeks her out for study sessions.

Morgana seems to be the only friend Mallory really has left.

Or, at least the slightly younger witch is still talking to her and eating lunch with her. She even sits with Mallory few days later when they show up early for Zoe's basic magic class. They sit down beside each other like usual on the long table in the middle of the room, curiously staring at the white roses placed in front of each seat.

"What are we doing with the roses?" Morgana asks Zoe, who's twirling her own rose slowly in between pinched fingers.

"You'll see in a few minutes," the brunette replies with an excited grin, greeting other students as they come in.

The slightly younger witch turns to Mallory with an excited gaze. "What do you think we'll do with them?"

Mallory slightly flinches in response, looking over at perhaps her only friend cautiously. "You really don't hate me?"

Morgana's gaze softens. "Mal, I told you, no one hates you. Tabitha's just a bit sensitive and never saw anything like that before. Abby's the same way, they're both just cautious. Don't take it personally, I promise they'll be okay." She gently and playfully elbows the brunette. "If it's any consolation to you, I think what you did is pretty cool. Ms Snow seems to think so too. She keeps going on about it in class!"

Her last statement has Mallory's stomach in knots. She chews nervously at her thumbnail. "You don't think—"

"Nobody will kick you out," Morgana promises her friend. "That doesn't happen here, and I've been here since the beginning. Besides, Miss Cordelia, Ms Snow and Zoe all love you. There's no way they'd send you away."

Zoe clears her throat, cutting off all the conversations in the room. The girls all pick up their roses as she instructs, some staring in confusion, and others gently running their fingers hp the stalk. Twirling the rose in her own  fingers with a smile, Zoe starts, "It might seem easy, to alter the color of a flower. But the rose is unique—"

Mallory focuses intently on her flower as Zoe's words bounce around in her brain as background noise. Despite her friend's reassurances, she can't help but still feel like something's wrong, like she did a horrible thing by bringing that mangled deer back to life. Was it dark magic she displayed in those woods? She had never even practiced such a spell before, doesn't even know if there  _was_  a spell for what she did.

Her thoughts are stopped when the white rose in Zoe's hand changes from white to red.

"But one thing is certain. Nothing immutable when the will of a strong woman is applied," Zoe concludes with the softest of smiles, setting down her rose on the desk. "Now, show me how strong you are," she asks the girls with a gesture of her hands.

Mallory turns to her white rose, chewing on her lip anxiously. Morgana gently elbows her with a soft smile, her rose now yellow. "Come on, I know you can do it!" she quietly encourages her friend.

So she closes her eyes and focuses, taking a deep breath and letting go of everything but what she wants the rose to do. Her personal favorite color was purple, but this flower, the feel of it's strong, sturdy stem, the sweet, airy perfume wafting from the petals reminded her of her grandmother. What was her favorite color...?

"Blue", Mallory remembers with a small smile. Not sky blue, or even baby blue, but a deeper blue. The blue that the small pond reflected at dawn and dusk. Blue like the night sky lit up like stars. Blue like...

Blue like those small butterflies that constantly filled the garden and perched on sunflowers, creating the most stunning natural contrast.

She opens her eyes when she hears a series of soft gasps from everyone else in the room. The same bright, blue butterflies from her childhood are fluttering around the room, the top of her rose completely void of petals. It almost causes Mallory's mouth to drop in shock.

Had she transformed her rose petals into the same butterflies that danced above everyone's heads?

She turns and looks towards Zoe and Cordelia for an answer, relaxing only slightly when the brunette gives her a proud smile. The Supreme is transfixed on a butterfly above her own head, breathing out a soft, "Oh my god," when the insect transforms back into a white rose petal in the blink of an eye, landing right in the palm of her hand.

Before Mallory can say anything, maybe even apologize for what she did, Myrtle comes in the room with a less than thrilled expression.

"What is it?" Cordelia asks in a low voice, shooting the older woman a concerned look.

"The Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men has requested an immediate meeting of the council. We're obliged to get on a plane immediately," she informs Zoe and Cordelia, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Airline food when I had reservations at Galatoires. It's just... too cruel."

The Supreme sighs long and hard, gently resting her hand on Zoe's back. "Go grab your go bag," she gently dismisses the youngest member of the council, who looks about as equally thrilled as Myrtle as she exits the room. "Girls, our apologies for ending classes early," she addresses the room with the best apologetic smile she can muster. "All the rules still apply when we're gone," she reminds them before following Myrtle out the room hastily.

"What was that about?" Mallory wonders out loud after a moment of silence.

Morgana shrugs, pushing around the fallen petals of Mallory's rose. "When one of the other academies calls an emergency council meeting, the all just have to drop everything and go there ASAP. Myrtle and Zoe aren't particularly fond of the boy's school because it's underground and the grand chancellor is a bit of an ass."

"Is everything okay?" the slightly younger witch asks nervously, her stomach suddenly in knots. She didn't like how the council reacted to this sudden news, didn't trust how much all three women seemed to despise where they had to go. It all seemed off and put her on edge.

"Yeah, it should be," Morgana assures her friend. "Ariel Augustus is a bit of a drama queen. Do you want to come study Concillium later in the library with me?"

Mallory glances at the classroom door and tries to ignore the lingering feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. With a sigh and a nod, she manages a small smile for her friend. "Sure, I'd love to."

The feeling in Mallory's stomach lingers in the following days they are left alone without the council at the academy. It's constantly there when she eats, when she sleeps, when she studies. She tries to keep her mind off of it by talking with Morgana, hanging out with Salem in the library, and working out in the greenhouse.

She even tries to drown out the feeling with the tapes she had found in a box in the greenhouse at full volume, only slightly comforted by the songs she had often heard growing up at her grandmother's house.

The feeling gets even worse when the council returns with two additional witches.

Mallory's sitting in the living room with Salem on her lap the day the council comes home, her head snapping up from her book when she feels the strong, familiar pull of Cordelia's magic. For a split second, that awful feeling in her gut disappears, replaced by relief.

And then she opens the door to not three, but five witches. The two witches that flank the council look vaguely familiar to Mallory, as if she's seen their faces in passing, or had been shown their pictures somewhere. She thinks nothing of this, nothing of the new recruits.

But then she really takes a look at the two witches, studying their faces, the slightly, haunted look they both have in their eyes. She then looks at the council members, at the way Zoe looks like she's about to be sick, at the way Myrtle is silently fuming with rage, her arm protectively around Cordelia's waist. And then she looks at Cordelia, _really_ looks at her and now just notices the bags under her eyes, how utterly exhausted she looks, and how troubled her expression is. She's leaning into Myrtle as if she's the only reason she's not currently on the floor.

It hits Mallory all at once like a freight train who the other witches are: Madison Montgomery and Queenie, two witches who's faces are immortalized in picture frames just outside the main room with all the past Supremes. Right next to a witch named Nan and Misty Day, sit these two witches portraits, right underneath a plaque that memorialized the coven's fallen sisters.

The feeling in Mallory's gut comes back with purpose, almost making her sick with the weight of it. She no longer feels there is something wrong, but  _knows_  it. Madison Montgomery's soul had been claimed by the Underworld, never to return. Queenie had been killed in a place that tittered on the edge between this world and the Netherworld, her soul forever damned to roam the halls of the Hotel Cortez.

Mallory didn't know much about any dark magic or the Underworld, but she knew enough to know that the two witches that were immortalized on that wall a few feet away should not be standing on the academy's doorstep. It wasn't possible.

And yet...

Cordelia's head snapped up as soon as she hears the door creak open and manages to put on a brave smile when she sees the younger witch, but it does nothing to convince her that things are okay. In fact, it makes her heart sink even more.

"Oh, Mallory, how were things here?" she asks as casually as she can, pushing Myrtle away from her.

Mallory plays with one of the rings on her fingers, trying her best not to sound too concerned. "It's been okay," she says cautiously. "Miss Cordelia?"

"This is Madison and Queenie," Cordelia briefly introduces her student to the two formerly lost witches. Queenie gives a half hearted wave while Madison folds her arms across her chest. "They used to be students here..."

"Hi," is all Mallory can find it in her to say, her lips tugging down in concern. "Miss Cordelia?"

The Supreme brushes off the girl's concern once again, giving the girl an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but can you help them get settled in their old rooms? Zoe will help you. It's just... The flight back was really tiring."

The way she says it, all super casual, as if she was just suffering from a severe case of jet lag almost panics Mallory. Cordelia was trying to hiding something, and judging by the other witches' expressions, it wasn't good.

But the young witch just nods, managing a small smile. "Yeah, of course."

At the sound of her name, Zoe seems to snap out of her trance and smiles gratefully at Mallory, gently guiding her up the stairs and out of view of Myrtle and Cordelia before she has the chance to ask where the girls' old rooms are.

Madison and Queenie follow after the two silently, Madison wincing at every small sound that rings out through the academy and Queenie unconsciously rubbing at her wrist. It's a silent, tense walk that doesn't ease Mallory's worries.

Finally, Zoe speaks up, almost timidly, "Madison, you're still rooming with me, is that okay?"

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to room with you and Franken-Kyle," the platinum blonde retorts sharply, heels clicking to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

"We burned him when we found out he killed you," Queenie supplies quietly, briefly glancing back at Madison, who is stunned into silence, before putting a comforting hand on Zoe's back. "Ya'll end up giving away my room to the new group of students?" she jokes.

Zoe does manage to genuinely smile at this. "Not a chance in the world," she promises, coming up to a door that has always been closed since Mallory had been at the school.

Queenie pulls Zoe into a hug before putting her hand on the door knob. "I think I'm going to take a nap," she says. "Couldn't exactly do that back at that stuffy ass hotel."

Zoe's expression softens. "If you need me, I'm still just two doors down, okay?"

"Thanks, Benson," Queenie says with a teasing smile, but sounds genuine before going into her room and shutting the door.

"Hey, I'm... I'm sorry about Kyle," Madison suddenly murmurs, gently grabbing Zoe's wrist. "I know what he was to you, and you didn't have to do that for me."

"We did," the brunette replies, but her expression and tone are soft. She turns back to her student, offering the girl a reassuring smile. "I can take it from here, Mallory. Let Cordelia know they're settled for me?"

Mallory simply nods and turns away, only glancing back to see the two disappearing into Zoe's room.

She slowly retraces her steps, laying her palm flat against the wall as she goes along. Salem bolts up the stairs and is immediately at the young witch's side, weaving in and around her ankles as she goes along. Mallory carefully scoops up the cat and starts to descend down the stairs, on course to Cordelia's room when the doorbell rings.

Spooked by the sudden loud noise, Salem jumps out from Mallory's arms and darts back up the stairs. Instead of ignoring the noise, the young witch hurries to the door to answer it.

On the other side is an older man with a younger blonde at his side, her arms folded across her chest defensively. She looked to be just a few years older than Mallory herself, but feels tense, as if she'd rather be anywhere else.

Before Mallory can think on the duo further, the man speaks, "Hello, my name is Victor St. Pierre Vanderbilt. I have a meeting scheduled with Miss Goode at two to talk about my daughter, Coco," he gestures to the blonde beside him, who shifts uncomfortably at the introduction. "Is she around?"

Mallory smiles warmly at the two, giving Coco a reassuring glance. "Yes, she just got back from a business trip a couple minutes ago," Mallory tells Victor, stepping aside and gesturing for the two to come in. "Come on in, I'll sit you both in the dining room and go get Miss Cordelia."

Victor nods appreciatively, gently guiding his daughter into the house and sitting where Mallory shows them to. "She'll be right down," the young witch assures the two, heading out to fetch Cordelia.

She's steps away from the Supreme's bedroom door when she hears Myrtle softly cry out, "My poor sweet girl. You have just reached your prime!"

It sends her into a panic, the soul crushing sound of Myrtle's broken voice, the hopelessness in it. What did she mean "just reached her prime"? Why did it sound so horrible?

What the fuck had happened at that boy's school?

With her heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest, Mallory pushes the door open, ready to demand to know what exactly was going on.

Cordelia gestures for Myrtle to rise up from her place on her lap and smooths out her shirt while Myrtle faces out, looking at Mallory with a warm smile. "Yes, Mallory?"

They didn't know she had over heard, the young witch realizes. They want to put on a brave face for her so that she doesn't worry about what exactly is happening. It's like all the fire Mallory had built up went out with one look at the two women. How could she demand to know what was going on without completely shattering whatever walls of protection that they had built up to protect their secrets? She didn't have the heart to stand there and tear it down without completely destroying the two women.

So instead, Mallory says, "The old girls," she pauses, clearing her throat. "Or, I guess the old girls, they're settled," she assures the two oldest members of the council. "And your two o'clock is here."

Cordelia nods and briefly lays a reassuring hand on Myrtle's shoulder, gently caressing Mallory's cheek on the way out the door. "Thank you for helping Zoe get them settled."

Mallory looks up at this woman she basically considers to be a maternal figure, at her warm, thankful expression and can't help but soften underneath the gaze. "It was no problem," she quietly assures her, watching her head to the dining room.

She takes the long way to the kitchen, allowing Myrtle the privacy she needed to gather her bearings. Her mind is racing with thousands of thoughts as she grabs an apple and rinses it underneath the hot water in the sink, washing off any traces of wax before biting down into the fruit.

She knows that what she saw, what she overheard isn't something she can share with anyone, not even Morgana. It felt like she had listened in on a deeply private conversation and she feels guilty for even thinking that she was going to demand what was happening. The council would share all the information that they wanted to share when they felt comfortable enough to. They would tell the girls if there was something wrong, Mallory had to believe that.

"Mallory?"

At the sound of Cordelia calling her name, she looks up and walks into the dining room where Victor St Pierre Vanderbilt and his daughter were just wrapping up their meeting with the Supreme.

"This is Coco," Cordelia gestures to the blonde. "And it's her first day. Do you think you could show her around and help her get settled?"

Mallory nods and offers Coco, who seems to be a lot more comfortable than she was earlier, a warm smile. "Hi, welcome to Robichaux."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to do a part two but I'm not too sure. If people want it, I'll start working on it right away.
> 
>  
> 
> Update it's a full short story get ready for some angst kiddos


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